


Ashes in the Wind

by MakennaSweets1967



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Darkness, Gen, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), I'm Sorry, Sad and Beautiful, The End
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:00:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24852742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MakennaSweets1967/pseuds/MakennaSweets1967
Summary: A storm shaking the world, gripping the deepest roots of the earth. But nothing compared to the impending one buried inside.
Kudos: 3





	Ashes in the Wind

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to hell, it's me again. This is vaguely based upon the poem at the start, and also how my anxiety makes me feel lately.

_Do not stand at my grave and weep_  
_I am not there; I do not sleep._  
_I am a thousand winds that blow,_  
_I am the diamond glints on snow,_  
_I am the sun on ripened grain,_  
_I am the gentle autumn rain._  
_When you awaken in the morning's hush_  
_I am the swift uplifting rush_  
_Of quiet birds in circled flight._  
_I am the soft stars that shine at night._  
_Do not stand at my grave and cry,_  
_I am not there; I did not die._

The wind ripped through the trees. Branches snapping with ease, as if they existed to be broken.

Lighting erupting through the grey smog. Delivering a spark of light to a bleak world before fading away. 

Thunder rumbled in the distance. 

A storm shaking the world, gripping the deepest roots of the earth. But nothing compared to the impending one buried inside. 

Rot building at any moment ready to cave in. A small ball expanding like a corpse in the desert. Vile black goo in the pit of his stomach flaring with every breath just waiting to devour him whole. Mounting spider-like webs in every crevasse. Spreading through his veins, burning slits down his back. 

The world around him dull. Only the low hum of static coming from the cracked television filled the air. The pale yellow wallpaper peeling. A metallic taste of blood, and the smell of wet soil. 

He was already gone, hallowed out. Just a shell waiting for the end. For existence to expire, for him to vanish into thin air as life had begun to.

The steadiness of his face shaking, barely evident as his body got heavier and heavier. The canal of his windpipe getting smaller and breathes shallower. Dark nails digging into his flesh clawing it's way to the surface. 

His mind screamed for him to sink his fingers into his chest. To grab the white bone on each side, crack open his ribcage exposing the bloody core. Ripping out his throat to cease the screams roaring from his mouth. To hear the heart-pounding louder and feel the sticky organ beating in his hand. The only piece not devoured by the empty wasteland of darkness.

But he didn't... he kept watching out that glass door as the world trembled beneath him. Waiting for the moment when all things ended. 

The droplets of rain blurred behind the glossy film scaring his eyes. Trees molding into a blob of green, and brown. Cold filtering through him, his skin paling tinging blue. A bone-deep tired that took hold of every part of him. 

He slid the glass door open with every ounce of life left inside of him. Stepping into the torrent, his trenchcoat turning a shade darker, gain weight as he walked. His usual tousled hair stuck to the sides of his face. Heavy, cold, and distant, he was a storm surrounded by devastation. 

The earth cracked splitting outwards with each step he took. Fire racing to escape the fissures. Racing to scorch the life that still persisted. 

He fell into the violent winds, his arms stretched out as he went down. The world around him growing dark. The rain stopping, the grey smog still heavy over the air. The empty nothingness consuming him whole. But now he was light, weightless as he drifted. Nothing left but his trenchcoat blowing away in the wind. 

A forgotten beacon of hope, and bliss. Now just an article without meaning, no one left to bestow meaning upon it. 

He fluttered away like ashes becoming the wind. Meant to be immortal and that he would remain.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for the tragedy, I was trying to write something happy but everything I wrote turned sad or bad. This was something inspired and that just flowed. 
> 
> Thanks for taking the time to read it. Stay strong and keep fighting.  
> \- Makenna Sweets


End file.
